Found him last night. He’d been so disciplined. Hiding during the day. Biding his time. So patient, cool, calm, still. Waiting for his moment so carefully. Playing by the rules of the game handed down to him through generations of his kind. Then his target changes routine. The lights are on into the small hours. His hunger builds yet still instinct tells him “not now”, to be seen is the end of the game. But slowly the pain in his gut starts to outweigh logic. The awful emptiness starts to tear at his sense. He knows he must do something. Surely he can get away with it by just being small and discrete? He breaks cover. Weak with hunger, he flies to his target and ahhhh stabs and starts to drink. The sweet, life-giving warmth filling him, intoxicating him, making him careless. Then the hand. From nowhere it seems. The rush of terrible wind that he knows heralds something far worse, but he is so full and so tired. There’s nowhere to run. It’s over…
I got the bastard mosquito that’s been taking chunks out of me last night.
Yesterday I mostly played with my new soundcard which is a very good little thing. I also scalded my hand on the kettle and fell down the stairs on my butt which has left me a bit on the achy side today. This morning I woke up and lay in bed for 5 minutes thinking “wow it’s so quiet today” before remembering that I put ear plugs in before I went to bed… still not getting any cleverer…
This is the view out of the apartment window…
does your cruelty know no bounds? i thought you were a vegetarian who removed worms from the sidewalk!